A Breakthrough Request
by authoressnebula
Summary: Post 4x14: The fangirls weren't the only ones who wanted a different season four. Pure and utter crack and fluff.


_A/N: While I have several more serious ideas for fics post 4x14...this demanded to be written first. It's pure fluff and crack, people. I'm not sure what you'd call that combo. Flack? Cruff?_

* * *

The Winchesters watched their friend pull away, words falling from their lips with regret and hesitation. They moved around their car, distant from each other in more than one way, and the world seemed to fade to black around them. The brothers were separated, slid apart, unable to find their way back to-

"Hey!"

To each...um...excuse me?

The black background with white lettering was ripped apart, and Dean stepped out. "Hey, you!" he shouted again. Hesitantly and with considerably more caution, Sam followed him, glancing around as he did so.

"Um, Dean?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said tersely. "Who's running this thing? You were there a minute ago!"

And am attempting to finish it, if you wouldn't mind. Please go back to your car.

"I don't think we're ever supposed to be here," Sam said, biting his lip and looking around. "See? It's all black, Dean."

"I don't _care_," Dean insisted, glaring straight ahead. "I'm tired of this crap."

This crap? What 'crap' is it that you're referring to?

"There's names," Sam said again, looking to their left. "There's names, Dean. Of the Ones You Don't Piss Off. We need to go."

"NO!" Dean shouted, causing Sam to glance over at him in surprise. Dean pursed his lips but said in a softer tone, "No. I can't, Sammy. I'm tired of this _crap_ they keep throwing at us. I'm tired of not being brothers anymore. I'm tired of fighting with you when I damn well don't _want_ to."

Sam sighed and gave a small shrug. "It's just for a few more weeks, Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, turning fully to his brother. "Well, I'm not waiting for a few more weeks. I'm tired of not acting like _us_, Sammy. This isn't really _us_, and you damn well know it."

"I didn't say it wasn't that way, I just said-"

Excuse me?

"I don't care, Sam, I'm not waiting for them to mess it up some more-"

_Excuse_ me?

"What?" they both said in unison, turning to look straight ahead again.

That's the question you should be answering. What are you doing here? What do you want?

"A change," Dean said firmly. He glanced back at Sam, chin raised high as he waited for his brother's rebuttal. Sam merely shrugged. "Not gonna argue with me?"

"Dean, the reason I followed you in here is so we could _stop_ arguing," Sam said. "Over stupid, futile stuff, anyways, like if we're still brothers, and if you're weak."

"Yeah, and I'm _really_ holding you back." Both of them rolled their eyes at that. "I'm not waiting for them to throw more stuff like that at us. I almost planted an _axe_ in your chest, Sam. And if we wait a few weeks, they could kill one of us off again."

Sam winced and looked down, his hair hanging in his face. Dean gazed at him for a moment, then reached over and punched him lightly in the arm. Sam raised his eyes, and Dean gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm not gonna let it happen, bro, to either of us," he said, and Sam slowly began to smile.

Then what exactly is it that you want at this present time?

Dean rounded on his heel, gazing straight ahead again, eyes narrowed and lips tightened. "One, you'll start playing some damn music again. Something that isn't orchestral and ominous."

It...could possibly be arranged, but-

"And stop using my damn car for emo angst scenes," Dean continued, crossing his arms. "Give the emo-ness back to Sam, too, because I'm really sick of having it. And Sam needs it back." He paused, then added, "Okay, just a little of it back. Not all of it."

Sam rolled his eyes but merely leaned back against the black.

"Got it?" Dean asked.

Yes, but there's no guarantee as to if-

"And for the love of god, _stop_ pitting us against each other," Dean said. "That's my little brother you're making me talk smack to and attempting to have me kill, and I'm _tired_ of it. Nobody hurts my brother while I'm around, and you're making _me _be the person hurting him!" he added with a shout which echoed around the black.

Now that can't be changed, because the storyline is-

"I don't _care_ about your storyline, or the other people that you're messing with, like Ruby or Castiel," Dean interrupted. "I don't care if this is making your storyline juicy and delectable-"

"'Delectable'?" Sam repeated incredulously.

"-We're done," Dean finished, ignoring his brother. "We can't do this anymore. We _won't_ do this anymore. You hear me? This is crap, and Winchesters don't take crap."

It's not that simple-

"It can be," Sam spoke up, pushing away from the black and ignoring the white names to his left. "And also, you can stop putting stupid words in my mouth, because Dean's not the only one tired of attacking his brother. Dean's not weak, and thank god he's holding me back, because who the hell knows what you'd make me do if he wasn't?"

He glanced over at Dean, and Dean gave him a small smile back. "That's my boy," he said, and Sam rolled his eyes in response. His lips turned up, however, into a small grin, and Dean chuckled.

The demands are too high, and it's not possible-

"Really?" Dean asked, turning away from Sam again. "I don't think so. Either you guys fix it, or not only will me and Sam fight back with everything we've got, but we'll also get an SOS out to our strongest weapon."

And what is that, exactly?

The brothers shared a grin, before Dean leaned forward and whispered, "Fangirls."

...Oh dear god _no_.

"It's your choice," Sam said. Dean caught his sleeve and tugged him towards the black, and they both headed for the torn section, shoulder to shoulder. They slipped back through, and the black faded away briefly to reveal their car waiting for them. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, prompting a laugh from his brother.

"You drivin'?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "You drive. I've got a good feeling."

They slid into the car at the same time, and simultaneously shut the doors. The engine came to life, but they didn't pull away, merely waiting.

...A moment later, the sounds of an electric guitar filled the area, and both brothers grinned. The car pulled back enough, then flew forward, both of them smiling and together.

The black faded back in once more, and even as the guitar continued to play and Brian Johnson sang about being back in black, maintenance was called in to repair the tear, and a request form was quietly passed up to the Ones You Don't Piss Off.

END


End file.
